


Coup De Foudre

by Still_sleepless



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Depression, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_sleepless/pseuds/Still_sleepless
Summary: (Coup de foudre: an astonishing occurrenceespecially : overwhelming love at first sight)."I'm in love".Yeosang knew it was a mistake the moment he spoke the words out loud.





	1. don't hold me (hold me)

**Author's Note:**

> Haha I was meant to write the second chapter of my Woosan fic but clearly I have a problem. This is messy but I wrote it in one sitting and hopefully it makes sense. I don't really write in this kind of style usually so it might seem a bit rough. Hope you like it!
> 
> P.S: I'm sorry for all the italics lol

"I'm in love."

 

Yeosang knew it was a mistake the moment he spoke the words out loud.

 

"Oh." The single word falls out of Yunho's mouth as he stares at Yeosang in wide-eyed fashion. It was safe to say that he hadn't been expecting that. All of a sudden he feels awkward and embarrassed like he wasn't meant to be there. The confession didn't seem to be something meant for him to witness. He could feel his ears heating up as he strived to avoid Yeosang's eyes, choosing to look blankly at the wall behind him. 

 

"With who?" is what he says next. If only because he wants to fill up the silence with something more than their quiet breathing and awkward tension. 

 

Yeosang winces like he had been anticipating the question but hoped it wouldn't be spoken. Carefully, he settles onto their couch and folds his arms. Silently, Yeosang wonders when the others will come back from practice. Hopefully, they weren't questioning Yunho and Yeosang's prolonged absence. With a jolt, Yeosang realises that he had been silent for far, far too long. Glancing up, he met Yunho's uncertain gaze with palpable discomfort. 

 

He breathes in deep and in a timid voice says, "I can't tell you". It's a cop out and he knows it. Yunho's curiosity won't be sated but it was the best he can do at the moment. 

 

After all, he isn't actually in love.

 

* * *

 

It would've been so much simpler if Yunho was a bad friend. But no, he just _had_ to notice the unexplained hours Yeosang was spending out late at night. 

 

He had been concerned in the kind of friendly way you are when your band member comes back at 3am, four consecutive days in a row. His totally platonic worry was only heightened by the fact that Yeosang would always come back flushed and in clothes that didn't belong to any of them.

 

No, he doesn't think Yeosang looks pretty when he's flustered and sweaty. _Who said that?_

 

So, when he drags Yeosang home from practice he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Definitely not a confession of love for some faceless stranger. He'd say it doesn't sting but that would be a lie. It doesn't just sting, it burns. His heart is on fire and he's surprised he's still standing.

 

And okay, maybe he's a little bit in love himself.

 

The thought invades his mind and Yunho tries pushing it back but the damage is already done.

 

_I'm in love with Kang Yeosang._

 

The realisation is unbidden and strikes him as hard as a thunderbolt out of the blue. But it tastes familiar, like a long forgotten memory from a winter's day. 

 

The bile is rising before he can register the thought and then he's running away from Yeonsang's paltry explanation and vomiting his lunch into the toilet bowl.

 

This _really_ wasn't what he had been expecting for the day.

 

Tears are pressing at Yunho's eyes and he tries to blink them away but Yeosang has already joined him in the bathroom. His bewildered expression at Yunho's sudden illness would make him laugh if his mouth wasn't already busy.

 

"Hyung, are you okay? Should I call someone?" Yeosang whispers, his breath fanning across the back of Yunho's neck as he gently rubs his back.

 

Yunho wishes he would leave him alone, even as goosebumps rise from their close proximity. Wishes he would stop being so kind and soft and **beautiful**.

 

"It's fine, I think I just ate a bad lunch. You can go, Yeosang", the words hurt to say when what he really wants is for Yeosang to hold him closer and never leave.

 

Slowly, Yeosang begins to rise with tentative movements. The image of Yunho, pale and retching, makes him feel reluctant but he leaves when he sees just how serious Yunho seems. Grabbing his phone he sends a text to Hongjoong while thinking about how they had all eaten the _same_ lunch. A quiet doubt settles in his mind but Yeosang dismisses it.

 

He trusts Yunho.

 

As he waits for the others to come home he doesn't realise his mistake.

 

* * *

 

Yunho sits in the bathroom for the longest time, long after his vomit has finished burning acid into his throat. He rests against the wall and lets the ceramic tiles cool some of his heat. He knows he isn't sick, at least not in the way that the others thought. No, instead he just _has_ to be lovesick. 

 

"It's ridiculous", he mutters to himself with barely concealed mirth. _It's painful,_ is what he thinks silently as his heart breaks. 

 

Running his hands through his hair, he stands as he hears a rush of voices outside. Delicately, Yunho pieces himself back together and plasters a grin on his face. He opens the door with too much force and goes to join his members. 

 

Hongjoong was the first to notice Yunho tentatively standing in the doorway and immediately ushers Yunho in and forces him to sit down. "Yeosang said you were sick", he says in a concerned tone and immediately a hush falls over the room as the others pay attention. Hongjoong's careful eyes examine his face and Yunho's almost afraid he'll see something hidden there. Instead, Hongjoong waits with an expectant expression. 

 

"I ate some bad food. It's really not a big deal", Yunho shoots an accusatory glare at Yeosang, ignoring the sudden pang in his chest when he merely shrugs back. "You didn't have to stop practice for me."

 

"It can't be from the food", Jongho pipes up helpfully from beside him. His smile is soft and it's obvious he's worried. Yunho shifts to face him and feels guilt for lying so blatantly.

 

"And why can't it be the food?"

 

"It's simple. We all ate the same food. Yet, you're the only one who's sick", Jongho grins widely, obviously proud of his apparent genius. Yunho takes it back, he's no longer feeling guilty. 

 

"You look flushed." Hongjoong rests his palm against his forehead. "Do you have a tempera-" Yunho jerks back violently and can't help the split-second of irritation that flashes across his face. 

 

Hongjoong looks mildly hurt but before Yunho can't even think of apologising Wooyoung's voice rings crisp and startling across the living room from his spot on the floor. "Have you been _crying?"_ He sounds incredulous, like he doesn't believe it. 

 

Yunho furtively tries to pull his hood further down his face and quietly wonders what he's done to deserve this absolute nightmare of a situation. _I'm a good Christian boy! I mean, I haven't been to Church since I was a kid but that's besides the point._

 

"What? No-."

 

Then Yeosang is striding across the room and knocking his hand aside. He pulls down Yunho's hood and shoots a look of potent disapproval. Yunho winces in discomfort at the numerous eyes focusing on his. "Your eyes are puffy, they're always puffy after you've cried", he declares with a tinge of satisfaction. His fingers trace a line down Yunho's face, following a dried tear track, before stopping and gripping his chin gently. His touch is so light it's almost nonexistent. But Yunho can feel it _all_ and avoids Yeosang's sad eyes with surprising determination. 

 

"I didn't know you were paying that much attention to me, Yeosang", he meant for it to be a joke but to his ears it just sounds pitiful and slightly desperate. _Wow, well done. Why don't you just confess it to everyone while you're at it?_ He berates himself feeling half-crazed. 

 

Yeosang drops his hand with a huff and returns to his seat next to San at the table. 

 

"Okay, I get you want to be strong Yunho. But we're preparing for our comeback. We can't afford for you to get any more ill than you are now." Hongjoong is overwhelmingly firm and is squeezing and releasing Yunho's hands in uneven pulses, like even now he's generating the beat for another song. 

 

"As expected from our leader," San japes and throws a thumbs-up towards them. Hongjoong just rolls his eyes.

 

"As your _leader_ and as your friend, you need to say if there's something wrong." The words are demanding and Yunho feels compelled to say everything.

 

He doesn't.

 

"You're right. I'm sorry, I think I'm coming down with something. I should have told you earlier", internally Yunho's winces at the amount of lying he's done today. 

 

Looking relieved, Hongjoong smiles. "It's good we've noticed now before it gets worse." Yunho starts to smile again. "You're off practice for a week". 

 

His smile drops. 

 

"But-" he begins, looking around wildly at the others for support but they're already getting distracted by their own conversations. All except for Yeosang who's staring intensely at Yunho with a look he can't read. As their eyes meet Yeosang doesn't look away and Yunho's breath gets caught in his throat. 

 

"No buts, you're going to bed," Hongjoong is pulling him up by the back of his hood. The moment is gone and Yeosang is already talking animatedly with San. Yunho lets himself be led away, feeling and looking like a lost puppy. 

 

Despite his iron will, he ends up falling asleep easily and dreams of a pretty boy with red on his cheek. 

* * *

 

When he wakes it's the middle of the night. He can hear the steady inhales and exhales of San in the bed above him. Carefully, he gets up to get a drink. Yunho doesn't switch on the lights and just sips his water as he lounges in the dark. Mid-sip, he hears the scuffle of shoes against their welcome mat. Then he watches as Yeosang passes by the living room door in clothes that are a size too big for him. He doesn't notice the eyes watching him. 

 

Yunho doesn't say anything. He waits.

 

Then he goes back to bed. 

 

 


	2. would you care?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and now I'm wearing a necktie like a noose.
> 
> but it only looks good on you.
> 
> (so darling will you wear it too?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's so short I have an A-level exam tomorrow. Here's to failure!
> 
> Hope you like the direction it's going in.
> 
> WAVE WON WOO (even though I was team #illusion lol)
> 
> Utopia is my fav B-side. It's so pretty.

A shirtless Yeosang greets him the next morning, seemingly having lost the contents of his wardrobe. If Yunho was a better person with more restraint he would roll his eyes, crack a joke and shove him aside in favour of eating his breakfast.

He isn't a better person.

"Are you fucking with me on purpose?", Yunho wonders if he really has contracted some kind of disease. One that loosens his throat and lowers his inhibition. Because, _why on earth_ would he say that? He rarely loses his temper, least of all with Yeosang and definitely not for no reason. What is his reason? That Yeosang had the _audacity_ to fall for someone other than him?

_Yes._

And he hates himself for it.

Sick of the constant existential questions that don't suit the early morning chill, Yunho groans. Now, he _does_ shove Yeosang aside and collapses into his seat; head hanging low so as to avoid any questioning eyes. If the others hadn't been concerned before (they had) then they sure were now.

"What? Is that it?", Yeosang hadn't moved at all, still facing the kitchen door but it was clear who he was talking to, "What did I do?" His voice leaks steel and ice, the temperature drops by a few more degrees and Yunho swears he sees Jongho shiver.

_Oh, I was just distracted by your lack of a shirt and my subsequent attraction. Is that **good enough?**_

"What did I say?" he feigns ignorance and starts chugging his juice the moment Seonghwa glares in his direction with disappointment. He's meant to be _ill_. Why do the others have to look at him like he's grown a second head?

Yeosang finally turns around and the others suddenly wish he hadn't. In place of calm honey, his eyes seethe unbridled anger and his cheeks have adopted a tinge of red. Yunho wishes he didn't find the colour so pretty. He almost reaches out when he notices Yeosang shaking slightly but forces his hands to clutch the table instead.

Maybe he had gone too far? It seems like Yeosang might implode. It's unlike him and honestly unnerving to see.

Like a switch has been flipped, Yeosang deflates right in front of them. The red washes out of his cheeks like a burst balloon and he is abruptly painted in tones of grey scale.

Something is off, Yunho understands all at once that there is something quite not _right_ about the situation. The idea of a doppelganger comes to mind. Yeosang doesn't give into anger easily but when he does then he doesn't let _go_ easily either. _His_ Yeosang would probably have poured the juice upside his head already.

 _This_ Yeosang leans in uncomfortably close and breathes out sulphur, "I understand that you're sick", tilting his head he widens his eyes in sympathy; pale and gaunt (Yunho has never noticed that before), "I'm always here if you need help".

Then he drops next to Jongho and begins to nibble at a slice of toast, pausing every few seconds to flash a sickly smile at all of them in turn. Yunho doesn't miss the way Jongho inches further away into Wooyoung's side.

Yeosang's lip is bleeding, bright red and catching crumbs. It looks like it hurts and Yunho longs to chase away the colour with his own lips.

After what seems like forever with Hongjoong attempting productive conversation, Yeosang carefully gathers himself up before offering to do the dishes. Stiffly, he completes the task and slowly walks back into his shared bedroom. The remaining seven observe his gait, awkward and loping like he can feel the weight of their stares and has forgotten how to function.

Once he's left the atmosphere drags itself down even more.

"Well", Mingi turns, fixing Yunho with a half-playful smirk, "that was weird".

Nobody laughs.

Yunho leaves to his room as well, feeling like he's trying to outrun something bigger than himself and failing.

* * *

 

 

If self-loathing were a colour, Yeosang thinks it would be yellow. Not the gold of the sun during the height of summer, Hongjoong's heady laugh as he chases Jongho under the relentless gaze of dizzying heat. Nor the burnt orange of Wooyoung's hair the first time he bleached it during their debut promotions, their manager cursing him out for forgetting to use toner; " _you still look pretty",_  he had assured in the darkness of their room long after they were meant to be asleep before erupting into poorly concealed giggles. It wasn't the soft shade of butter of the shirt that Mingi and San had gifted him when he turned 18 - brand name proudly emblazoned. Yeosang crying salt tangy tears because they hadn't been buying snacks like they usually did and now he knew _why_.

  
It's not the amber of _Yunho_. The light he handed down to Yeosang the first time their electricity was cut off, Yunho's hands guiding him through the dark to the circuit breakers hoping for a miracle. (Yeosang already had his miracle, he didn't need another).

Self-loathing is the blunt force of yellow in an empty room. The yellow of vomit as he bends over his toilet bowl - a mirror image of Yunho, except there's no one holding him. _Not like you deserve it._

He worries that the others have finally noticed that he's doesn't belong. That he's dragging them down. That must be why Yunho was so angry, he's disgusted by the dead weight.

The thought evokes another retch and Yeosang squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying not to replay the scene. He fails.

He's never had Yunho speak to him like that. _The one pers-_

Yeosang cuts himself off. _Get a hold of yourself._

He had tried so hard to be perfect. He had been sweet to Yunho. He had smiled until his cheeks strained with the effort. He had even washed the fucking dishes and he hates doing the dishes.

And yet Jongho had cringed away like he reeked of something only they could smell. 

Furious at himself, he stands and cleans up. Staring at his face in the mirror, Yeosang realises his lip is bleeding, a deep cut from biting too hard. Brusquely rubbing away the blood, he steps back into his bedroom.

With overwhelming care, Yeosang folds a newly washed shirt that reaches his knees. He places it inside an inconspicuous gym bag and quietly opens the door, being careful to listen out for the others. Tugging at his own shirt coloured in canary hues, Yeosang seeks the only person who can ever soothe him anymore. Feeling like a second rate criminal, Yeosang leaves the dorm surreptitiously and boards a car going God knows where.

 

He doesn't come back until the moon lies bloated in the sky.


	3. screams in silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and if I were to stay, 
> 
> would you sing a song 
> 
> with me?

Yeosang keeps leaving.

He wonders if he's addicted. If so, then to what? The feeling of knowing that he's fading has grown stronger. It's knowing that whatever he had once been, whatever goal he had started out with has now morphed into something twisted. He leaves and doesn't know if he's leaving for what he thinks he is.

Yeosang is running into the sun and what you see is not the rain but his ashes, falling from the heavens and blurring your sight.

It burns. It's burning.

* * *

 

Surprisingly, it's Wooyoung who asks the question. Finally, they notice that Yeosang has been disappearing without explanation. "Yeosang...where have you been?" It's curious and innocent and everything that Yeosang has been striving to avoid.

He hadn't been careful - had been so, so tired - and had fallen asleep, rushing home when the noon sun lit up the sky with an effervescent shine that only seemed to highlight his shame. Bursting through the door he'd run into Seonghwa and Wooyoung and immediately he felt like shrivelling up into dust rather than have to face the situation at hand.

"I woke up early," he spots Hongjoong exiting his room and grins cheerfully, "I went for a jog by the river." He pushes his way through the two of them and begins heading to his room, a shower is desperately needed to wash off the grime and overwhelming warmth that's clinging to his skin.

"Hey, hyung", he casually says with the lightest tone he can muster before stepping into his room. The curtains are drawn and he almost let's his guard down in relief.

"-But you didn't come home last night?"

He freezes, one hand on the door, before turning back and facing Wooyoung who's sporting a look of discomfort, eyebrows knitted together and lips pressed in a thin line. The others share a similar appearance, having been joined by San and Jongho who have clearly just awoken judging by their evident confusion and bleary eyes.

Yeosang distinctly tastes chlorine and knows that he's drowning in open air. He can't open his mouth however much he wants to because he's choking on so much more than water. It's the feeling of anchors weighing him down that keeps him from treading water. Yeosang wonders what will happen when he reaches the surface. He wonders if he'll ever reach the surface.

Seonghwa tentatively grips his wrist and drags him backwards into the harsh, unforgiving light of the living room. He thinks he'll let go but then Seonghwa's hands are pulling at the soft material of his sleeve and he's grimacing, teeth bared in disdain. (Yeosang doesn't realise it's a defense mechanism, one borne out of concern and not hate).

"This isn't yours", Seonghwa is loud in the too quiet room, his hands dropping before grabbing at Yeosang's bag in quick, short movements, "neither is this".

Yeosang wants to laugh. The tension bubbling up was disproportionate, surely, to him staying out and having a new top. He was an adult who should be trusted to be responsible. But really, Yeosang wants to cry.

Because it's about so much more than that. They just don't know it, yet. Not even him.

"The bag is mine actually", his voice resounds defensively, high pitched and petty and he hates how weak he sounds. It's moments like these where the cracks really show, the disparities between him and the others. It's like a bridge that can't be crossed, one with a toll booth that charges too much in the dead of night. Yeosang is running low on funds and can't find it in himself to reach the others, even with his arms outstretched they're always too far to touch.

"When did you start buying Balenciaga bags?" San blinks slowly, sleep still gathered like cobwebs in the corner of his eyes as he gazes as Yeosang. "You wouldn't even buy me a coffee two days ago." It's said lazily, vowels drawn out and raspy but San is too intelligent not to understand the implications and they all know it.

"Does that mean the shirt isn't yours?" Jongho interjects, voice fading as he moves into the kitchen before returning with a slice of toast. "Because I've never seen it before." His nonchalance bites at Yeosang's patience who's getting sick of excuses and just wants to lie down and forget his own existence.

"I don't know why I'm being interrogated." Squaring his shoulders, Yeosang makes an impulsive decision spurred on by irritation and desperation. Strands of dyed hair obscure his vision and pink is all he sees as Yunho shuffles into the room. All he's _really_ seeing is the backs of his eyelids as he squeezes them painfully shut.

"They're not mine. You're right." He wonders if they can all hear that ringing, it echoes like a gong and causes him to flinch away, even though there's no source except for his mind. "I'm sorry for staying out, I was _busy_." He stresses the last word like a broken note and hopes they don't make him say it. He sees realisation dawn in Hongjoong's and Wooyoung's eyes, wide and startled.

"Are you telling me you've been leaving at night to _sleep_ with someone? Who?" The question is blunt and embarrassing and he resents Seonghwa for being so quintessentially him even now. "Did he give you those?", Seonghwa is cold and clear cut, nodding towards Yeosang. Yeosang hears a quiet " _him?_ ", from Jongho's direction and feels the lining of his heart grow ever more thin. How much more before he collapses?

"I should have told you all earlier", Yeosang jumps because _when did Yunho wake up?_ "He's been doing this a lot longer than you'd expect, you just weren't paying attention".

 _You were_ , the thought is spiteful and refreshing, giving him a distraction from his current failures. Yeosang savours the taste as he contemplates just _how_ only Yunho knew what was going on.

"You knew?" It's Hongjoong now, seemingly having remembered his position as leader. Yunho simply motions flippantly in response, his eyes pinned to Yeosang, they're empty of any meaning. It's the most interaction they've had in days and even then Yunho is painted in steel. It's like a wall is up and Yeosang doesn't quite know who started it. Just that neither of them is willing to be the one to end it. Whatever it is.

"Well now that you all know the sordid ins and outs of my life can we be done with this?" His skin is itching underneath the surface and he can smell spices. Yeosang wonders if he's having a stroke. He knows that the others will be discussing him for days to come. He doesn't care. All he wants is to disappear.

He sees the hesitation but then Seonghwa pinches Hongjoong and smiles brightly, "Go shower. I'll make you food."

Hongjoong frowns but relents as Seonghwa nudges him. "Go ahead", he rubs the spot of skin that's quickly reddening and glares at Seonghwa who merely pastes a faux apologetic look on his face.

The moment Yeosang enters his room he hears the quiet chatter start up, muffled only by the dark wood of his door. They really _do_ lack subtlety.

* * *

 

Sitting at the kitchen table, Yeosang feels marginally better. He feels a drop of water move from his hairline onto his eyelash and tilts backwards. Showering washed away some of his anxiety and he gratefully accepts the towel San offers him. He eats quickly and quietly, can feel the stares at the back of his head and resists the urge to turn around and look at Mingi and Jongho. _They're just confused_ , he reassures himself.

"Yeosang, do you still need help with verse 2? San and I are about to go over it again." Wooyoung calls as Yeosang is cleaning his dishes. He had been struggling with the moves and appreciated the extra time, even if the word _help_ stabs him like daggers.

"Yeah, I'm coming!" Yeosang rushes to join them and lets out a breathless gasp as he walks headfirst into someone in the hall. Yunho. "Yunho, I-", but he's already brushing past him, not even stopping to listen to whatever Yeosang has to say. (He doesn't know what he has to say, the words are stagnant and press against his stomach like bricks).

It's not fair. Yeosang hadn't done anything, if anything Yunho should be apologising to him. Even as he thinks this Yeosang knows he's wrong. They'd fought before without real consequence, this is different. Yunho has never been so cold before, if he reaches out he thinks he'll find not a pulse and warm blood but ice and sharp fingertips. Somewhere, Yeosang has lost Yunho to the cold and he doesn't know how to bring him back.

He doesn't know that the one thing that will thaw him out is the one thing he can never have.


	4. in between seeing and being

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it stings knowing that death loves me more than you do

It happens 3 weeks and 2 days after Yeosang first spoke the words that started this. This exploration into feelings that Yunho had repressed in dark rooms and empty nights.

By all definitions of the word, Yunho is tired.

He is exhausted. Yet he spends every possible hour he has in the practice room, breathing heavy and bones weary.

Hongjoong commends him for his overwhelming hard work on this comeback. _You've gotten so much better,_ he says during dinner. And he has, movements so fiery they take center stage even when Yunho is positioned at the back. But it's not because of all the practice and late nights. It's because Yunho is trying so hard to think about anything other than the boy who opened a door into the room in his heart that he hadn't known existed.

There were three things that were capable of taking away Yunho's breath. Dancing, death and Kang Yeosang. Recently, they were all beginning to feel like one and the same.

To have love flood every inch of your being, it sets you alight in a way that drugs just can't compare to. It's this feeling of all encompassing _life,_ like you've been asleep your entire life until the moment you've finally fallen. Yunho's woken up from a nightmare only to find himself in the sweetest of dreams. _(The dream is rotting, doomed from the very start)._ There's a certain sick irony to finally feeling alive to then start dying.

* * *

 

It happens as Yunho is sprawled across the hard wood of the practice room floor. There's no real warning, nothing like in the stories, not even a tell-tale tightness of his chest. There's just the blinking of the overhead lights and an unexplainable heat that burns behind Yunho's eyes.

Yunho coughs once. He coughs _one_ time and covers his mouth only to feel something almost silky in his palm. Sitting up, he unfurls his fist and stares. That's all he does, all he can do.

There's a solitary petal, purple and smaller in size than his thumb, so slender he has to blink repeatedly in order to ensure that it's not a mirage.

He exhales shakily, mind racing for a reason. He can come up with one. It's insane. "I'm losing my mind. I was wondering when it would happen", he mutters in the empty room and rubs at his eyes with his left hand. Mindlessly, he pockets the petal with his right and sets about once again running through the choreography.

It isn't until two days later, in the waiting room of a music show that curiosity knocks at him. Reaching into his pocket, Yunho pulls out the petal. It's crumpled and he sets it on his thigh, tugging to straighten out the edges. He's started carrying it with him everywhere, feeling a dull comfort in stroking it - even if that does make him feel a tad bit creepy.

He's about to take the plunge, wanting to confirm his suspicions. Yunho pulls out his phone and stares at the screen, thumb hovering hesitantly, the search cursor seeming almost mocking. Just as he works up the courage, he's interrupted by an uncomfortably baritone voice.

"What's that?" Mingi enquires, flopping onto the couch with post-performance exhaustion. He's clad in velvet. His eyes are smudged with blue eyeshadow, narrow and piercing but it's offset by his toothy grin and as he leans into Yunho's side, he smells of roses. Yunho nudges him away with his elbow; sharper than he means to be.

"It's a good luck charm," he answers shortly. Then he feels bad and moves closer to Mingi, resting his head on his shoulder. The bustle of the waiting room lulls him into a sense of security, he watches Hongjoong trip over a wire and laughs.

Mingi draws his attention back, "I didn't know you liked flowers." His voice is casual and quiet against his neck as Mingi tilts his head up against his.

"I don't". He crumples the petal in his palm and shoves it back inside his pocket when he notices Mingi's fingers inching forward. There's a brief pause before Mingi moves again, resting his hand at the nape of Yunho's neck and lightly scratching a soothing pattern.

"The purple suits you", Mingi nods towards the choker that Yunho is wearing, embellished with chunks of glitter and as tight as a noose. It's a reminder of how trapped he is and Yunho fights the urge to tear it off.

Instead he smiles tightly, "I don't like the colour purple", Yunho mutters, mind still on the petal.

"Neither do I", Yunho glances at Mingi curiously, he's sporting a teasing glint that reaches his eyes. He's glowing. "Except when it's on you", he breathes this out onto the shell of Yunho's ear.

Yunho realises just how intimate their position is, faces only inches apart. He almost jumps backwards but then a member of staff is calling Mingi. Before he leaves Mingi winks and then he's sliding away into the chaos.

Yunho sighs, too used to Mingi's overall touchiness to dwell on it.

Once again, he opens his phone. He types something without really thinking. The location of the nearest florist.

* * *

 

It's the weekend. The others are at the dorm preparing for the radio appearance that they have in a few hours.

Yunho is in a dusty florist, waiting for someone to arrive at the counter. The place is silent, to the point where it's almost unnerving. The front of the shop is made of mosaic glass, light filtering through in uneven patches. There are plants everywhere, a congregation of roots dug into a large mound of soil. Vines creep up the walls and when Yunho breathes he can almost pretend he's somewhere else; the earthy scent brings with it a picture of moss and jumping from high places. There's a row of pots directly in front of him. The flowers growing with such force that they spill over, stems bent ever so slightly in prayer.

"Hello."

Yunho prides himself on not screaming despite the absolute surprise he feels at such a sudden interruption. Instead he simply turns his head, surveying the woman who's now situated behind the counter, partly obscured by a hanging wreath made of glazed bellflowers.

"Hi", Yunho says cheerfully, making a conscious effort to smile, remembering an article he once read about being with women in compact spaces. Something about appearing non-confrontational. He feels a bit stupid and so drops the smile, adopting a more serious countenance. "I have a question."

The woman moves forward and Yunho sees that she's younger than he first thought, not much older than himself. Her name tag is red and shiny, _Jiyoon_ announced in large letters. "Ask away." Her fringe falls dark over one eye as she bends to water some chrysanthemums.

He awkwardly places the petal on the counter, hands shaking slightly, in her line of sight. It's darkened in the four days since he first expelled it from his mouth but has retained it's general form well enough. "Can you tell me what flower this belongs to?" He tries to seem assertive but the question itself makes him feel foolish, like a child trying to puff themselves up in front of an older friend.

For her part Jiyoon doesn't seem at all phased, picking up the petal with painstaking care and examining it thoroughly. "This is part of a Clematis flower."

Before Yunho can respond she's disappearing into the darkness of the backroom and reappearing with a worn out book in her hands. She thumbs through it efficiently before flipping it around and pointing, "This is a Clematis flower when it's fully grown. See how the point of the flower curves inwards to a star point?" She places the petal on the page, "it's an exact match for colour, deep purple, almost burgundy."

She lounges back in a stool, letting Yunho examine the picture for himself. "They say the flower represents ingenuity and deception because of how easily it can climb up walls. It's quite beautiful don't you think?" Her voice is taunting, like she knows something Yunho doesn't but when he raises his head she's the image of innocence.

Ignoring her question, Yunho musters up his courage and swallows audibly. "Have you ever heard of anyone coughing up flowers?"

To his surprise, she sits up, bright and perky. "Ever since that comic has come out we've had so many people come by asking about it. Especially, since the movie trailer dropped."

Yunho can't hide his confusion. "Asking about what?" The book lays forgotten under his hands, the words _deception_ printed in bold.

Jiyoon's smile dims, frown lines creasing slightly as she squints out of suspicion. "Hanahaki disease." When Yunho doesn't react she continues, "it's said that when someone suffers from unrequited love they have a chance of developing Hanahaki disease. An ailment characterised by the budding of flowers deep in the lungs, that steadily grow until they emerge out of your throat."

Jiyoon's voice is sad and ominous, her body framed by a ring of flowers that seem far more dangerous than Yunho could have ever previously envisioned. "It happens in stages, gradually worsening until you're choking on newly bloomed evergreen. Fatal unless you can rip them out by the root." She punctuates this by snipping at a hanging rose with shears and Yunho visibly shrinks backwards, overcome by this newfound knowledge of his own humanity. "But it's just a myth", she announces sunnily with a quirk of her lips, shutting the book harshly and handing the petal back gently.

Yunho accepts the petal and watches her mechanically, the sun hides behind a cloud and the shop darkens. A lonely tear travels down his face. He's wiped it away by the time the sun reappears, sniffing as he grips the reminder of his love. His _unrequited_ love. "Will you be needing anything else today?" Jiyoon questions.

"No, thank you Jiyoon. I appreciate your help though." And this time Yunho does smile, if not out of happiness then out of a morbid sort of appreciation. Thankful to the girl who unknowingly told him of his impending death.

"You're welcome..." She looks sheepish as she scratches at her temple.

"Yunho."

"You're welcome, Yunho. Feel free to come back with any questions you may have".

He turns to leave when something catches his eye, hidden on a mantle at the far end of the store. He stops abruptly. "Actually, there's one more thing."

* * *

 

That evening, Yunho sits on the floor of his shared room alone, listening to their radio appearance and wincing at his poor attempt at acting cute. Besides him is a jar fashioned out of crystal. Engraved on it is a limp arm with a single sunflower growing out of the wrist.

Inside the jar lays two crumpled petals; pointed like stars, coloured deep purple, almost burgundy and dotted with spots of red. Before the night is over, five more join their place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a very Yunho heavy chapter but I feel like we've gotten a lot of Yeosang recently. I don't know how I feel about this chapter but hopefully you enjoy it.


	5. let's stop here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if we took our time
> 
> would you finally feel the same?

 

It takes a flash of lights and one wrong step for the world to come crashing down.

 

* * *

 

"Fuck".

 

Yunho isn't thinking, he can't think. There are a flurry of petals scraping lines up his throat in a hospital restroom and he's worried. The concern isn't borne out of someone potentially hearing him but because two wards down Yeosang is getting a cast wrapped around his leg. A measure taken in the hopes of mending his shattered tibia.

 

He knows that the stress he's feeling is disproportionate to the situation. Yeosang is fine. He'll heal even if he's upset about the injury. But that's not why Yunho is terrified right now. No, he's scared shitless because up until now he's been pretending that everything that's been happening is normal. It was meant to be just a passing tide that will only leave him shivering. Not a storm that would leave him adrift at sea. 

 

The moment that Yunho saw Yeosang fall it was like the world narrowed into only that point. A vignette centered around only Yeosang. His hearing dimmed to white noise and some hidden vestige of his heart shrieked in agony. It wasn't Yunho with the broken leg but it might as well have been with how much pain he was in.

 

And Yunho realises that what he has isn't something that will fade if he ignores it. Love doesn't work that way.

 

So, now he's shaking in a stall picking bits of broken stem out from his teeth. Unrequited love isn't nearly as romantic as people make out. It seems like he's been spending half his life hiding out in various restrooms to avoid the truth. 

 

Tapping restlessly against his hip, Yunho wonders how long he has until one of the members hunts him down. Gingerly, traces along some graffiti scrawled on the ceramic tiles close to his head. If I'm not dead then I'm dying. He mouths along with the words before comprehending the meaning and he moves back quickly, hand dropping like he's been burned. Maybe he has. 

 

"Can't be long..." He mutters, muffled and sardonic against his palm. He hadn't exactly left gracefully, just jerking out of the room with bloated cheeks already full of leaves. Deciding to get it over and done with on his own terms, he slinks out of the restroom and reluctantly heads towards Yeosang's room. Instead of walking straight in Yunho hovers aimlessly outside the door, hospital air weighing him down. Only after puffing himself up to full height does he feel confident enough entering. Then he inevitably immediately deflates once he locks eyes on Yeosang whose eyes are swollen and ringed red with the remnants of tears and exhaustion. There's no one else in the room, the act is one that should be private. 

 

The tough guy act is hard to keep up against a guy who currently looks like a kicked puppy.

 

Yunho, with much deliberation, gives in.

 

It was a losing battle. (He pretends he hadn't already given in the moment Yeosang first locked eyes with him years prior).

 

Thus, his eyes soften into pools of something not quite water but close enough. And it takes three brisk strides for him to drop into the bedside chair. Yeosang, for his part, looks startled at Yunho's sudden proximity. Being starved of attention lent to some twisted withdrawal symptoms that Yeosang has only just started to deal with. So, with wide-eyed speculation he stares at Yunho uncertainly, gaze shifting around in suspicion. If Yunho's heart could take anymore of a beating then it would be breaking right now. 

 

He pushes the thought away for the moment and focuses on his priority. "Idiot." He says simply, lips down turned in disapproval. Yeosang jolts like a wounded animal but before he can say anything Yunho grabs his hands and holds tight - trying to convey his sincerity without words. 

 

"I knew you couldn't survive without me," he continues chiding, voice free of malice and Yeosang seems to understand because he smiles slowly. It's not much but to Yunho it looks like the sun emerging at daybreak. A new dawn to wash away his mistakes. 

 

"Yeah because you of all people _you_ could have prevented a broken leg," Yeosang croaks out snarkily, his tear-stained cheeks pale but already blooming from renewed vigour.

 

Yunho fights back a smile but fails. He grins for a moment and Yeosang just glares but then they're both erupting into laughter, chests heaving from the effort. It's a relief and the stagnant tension that seems to have trailed behind them the past month finally escapes. In it's wake is the kind of silence that comes from contentment, Yunho leaning into Yeosang close and savouring the warmth. In return he starts to draw words out onto Yeosang's wrist, delicate and bird-like in Yunho's grasp.

 

"Guess the word," Yunho says playfully, already tracing something out in stilted lines. His nails drag over Yeosang's skin but not enough for it to hurt, just enough for him to feel it.

 

"I've missed you," he replies instead, so quietly that Yunho wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't paying attention. He doesn't react, only moves his hand to retrace the word again. Yeosang seems infuriated, stilling Yunho with the hand that's not currently being drawn on. He's tries again, this time with more verve. "Yunho. I've missed you."

 

Yunho pauses, deliberating over his response while resolutely not looking up. "That's not the answer." He hears a sharp intake of breath and feels Yeosang's hand retract slightly. Sighing, Yunho needs to make a decision, already knowing that nothing good will come of this. He looks up.

 

Yeosang's eyes are once again welled with tears that refuse to spill out of pride or something stronger. But they're there and that's enough to make up Yunho's mind for him.

 

"Did you not miss me?" Yeosang asks shakily, as if to twist the dagger in even deeper. He's hunched in on himself, looking smaller than he has any right to be.

 

"Of course, I did," Yunho says gently, stroking Yeosang's nape and carefully shifting to avoid his cast. "I missed you more than I can say", he tries to keep the longing out of his voice but some still falls through the cracks and tinges his voice with inexplicable yearning. He coughs to cover it up and winces at the charade.

 

Oblivious, Yeosang breezes on past that and hits Yunho suddenly on the arm. "Never do that to me again!" He sniffs hard before grinning tearily in a way that makes Yunho ache all over. Not knowing what to say, Yunho pulls Yeosang in for a hug, arms around his shoulders and face buried into the top of his head.

 

He smells like strawberries and syrup. Yunho wonders what would happen if he were to kiss Yeosang right now. He's struck with the overwhelming need to mouth along his jawline. Then as quickly as the desires come he's embarrassed and turning dark red. To distract himself he glances around the room before his eyes land on something orange and not at all reminiscent of strawberries.

 

Pulling away slightly, Yunho nods towards the bouquet. "Who bought you flowers?" He asks inquisitively, skin still burning from his indecent thoughts. He doesn't notice Yeosang stiffen under his hands, too preoccupied with his own thoughts.

 

Yeosang doesn't meet Yunho's eyes, looking at his broken leg instead and further intertwining his arms around the other's back "One of the others...I think." He's purposely evasive, lips feeling drier than they were a few seconds ago. Lying never feels good but especially not today.

 

Yunho brightens, sitting back in his chair and looking at the flowers again. "Begonias, right?" He questions, already knowing the answer. There's a thrumming in his lungs that feels a bit like peace. He isn't sure what it means but that doesn't matter.

 

Across from him there's a curious sound of surprise, Yeosang poking him lightly on the cheek. "They are. How did you know?" He looks impressed, a single bleached eyebrow arched high and sharp.

 

"I've been getting really into plants lately," he responds, suppressing an awkward smile. The truth isn't far off, after all. If he was more confident then maybe he'd laugh but for now being cryptic is the best option.

 

They both smile, small and careful, like the moment is so fragile it could break with a sudden movement. It's too sweet. Yunho realises that if he doesn't leave now then he might never leave again. It's a choice that's buried deep within that he doesn't want to face. 

 

Instead he delays the inevitable. "I'll go get coffee and see where the others are at?" Yeosang only nods and Yunho moves reluctantly - leaving the room with a final look back - and walks towards the scent of caffeine.

 

He doesn't realise how long it's been since he last coughed up flowers.

 


	6. I think we both know (or at least I hope we do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take me down to the place we used to roam
> 
> All alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is this crackpot fic my most popular? I guess we'll never know.

The skyline sings to Yeosang, twisting and stretching into the skies like some insurmountable plague. He thinks that it's unfair that even the skyline gets a song, creeping into his ears on an unwelcome melody. Enchanting as the city is, there's nothing appealing about it today and Yeosang remains on his loveseat, eyes following the curve of Han river for as long as he can before it runs out of sight. The waning sunlight splays over the horizon, fingers of red and orange beams printed like dust across his vision.

There's a certain firmness to the sunsets that bid Yeosang goodbye with each passing day. If he were to reach out far enough then he could capture a stray slip of sunlight and let it coat his hands in honey and jasmine and warmth.

There's something stirring in the very fabric that makes up reality, an unfortunate ending to a show that Yeosang doesn't want to watch. Terrible times are coming. He knows that they must be otherwise he wouldn't feel the tenuous vibration of anxiety when he falls asleep at night.

Yeosang reaches for the sun but finds his limbs glittering like uncut diamonds, blinking in and out of existence with the kind of fickle permanence he's come to associate with everyone but himself. Breathing deeply, he focuses on the cymbals crashing in his head, the dissonance reminding him that peace isn't his. Peace is a perennial that belongs to those that are more deserving, always blooming but never in his garden.

The self-pity is scathing. Somehow empowering and shaming at once. Yeosang bites into the shame without realising what he's tasting. Without realising just _what_ he's coating his insides with.

 

***

 

It takes the better part of the week until Yeosang feels stronger, brave enough to face the consequences of his idiocy. If it was summer then it would take twice as long. The sun does that to him, shines so bright that he forgets his flaws in the blindness. Winter is different. It sticks close like ankles weights made like shackles, chrome and heavy enough for him to drown his pools of freshwater.

"Knock knock". He says loudly, standing in the doorway to the office, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. At the desk, Johnny lifts his head and pins Yeosang with a heavy gaze. "I was wondering when you'd show up", he says, voice dull in a way that hurts Yeosang inexplicably. Slowly, his eyes drag down to Yeosang's leg, currently in a cast. Frowning, Johnny stands and manoeuvres Yeosang gently to a seat. "I guess we're not training today." It's more a statement than anything else, tinged with blunt finality.

"No", Yeosang says flatly, still wanting to deign him with a response, "we're not."

 

***

 

It's here that Yeosang feels most comfortable, nestled in the crook of the gym, sprawled upon a yoga mat and balancing his leg atop a plush pillow. Leaning against the cool paint of the wall, he watches Johnny practice with a punching bag. His long legs stretch in ways that surprise Yeosang every time, kicking the bag with finely controlled power.

The warm lights highlight the curve of Johnny's jaw but it's the furrow of his brow that Yeosang is enraptured by. The sheer concentration that Johnny displays at times like this is commendable, Yeosang is tempted to cheer but keeps quiet; a smile dances across his features and softens his countenance.

Suddenly, Johnny turns and catches Yeosang's eyes. "We have an hour before the gym opens, wanna spar?" He exclaims breathlessly, hopping in place quickly. Wide eyes tell Yeosang that he's serious about the offer which makes him scoff in derision.

"I think there might be a problem with that," and he lifts his leg up slightly before shrugging his shoulders in apology. "I'm cool with watching though."

Johnny's slumps, looking crestfallen before brightening considerably. "Move over then." Before he unceremoniously collapses beside him on the mat, limbs splayed haphazardly and ultimately taking up the majority of the space. Yeosang bites back a smile and simply sighs, a great puff of air that catches Johnny's attention. "Whatever. I know you love me," and Yeosang almost freezes because it's the truth. He doesn't though, choosing to reach out and ruffle his hair roughly.

"You didn't call," Johnny states casually as he's rearranging his frayed bangs, purposely not looking at Yeosang whose mouth has parted in surprise. For some reason he hadn't been expecting Johnny to bring up his prolonged absence. It was probably wishful thinking, he realises ruefully.

Not noticing his preoccupied thoughts, Johnny knocks their shoulders together, impossibly close. "I had to find out that you were injured through Jaemin." And that's enough to make Yeosang wince in guilt. But Johnny seems to notice this and laughs, something high and full and twinkling with abundant amusement.

He leans his head onto the wall as well - close to Yeosang's - and stares upwards, eyes trapped somewhere on the lights, halogen lamps burning streaks of gold. "I would have visited."

It's barely a whisper and Yeosang considers ignoring it but tips his head onto Johnny's shoulders and whispers back conspiratorially. "I didn't need you crying dramatically at the hospital." This only makes Johnny groan, shoulders shaking slightly when Yeosang cackles.

"That was one time!" The sun is rising slowly, casting them in dim warmth, faintly washing over the paper thinness of Yeosang's eyelids. "Besides, I was bored without you. So bored, that even shopping for flowers was interesting." Yeosang distracts himself from the joy these simple words bring him, playing with the charms of Johnny's bracelets.

He doesn't want to acknowledge exactly why he's reluctant to have Johnny speak to the others. He doesn't want to have to accept what his heart already knows.

"Your uncle is going to be here soon." And if Johnny knows that he's evading the subject then he doesn't show it. In place of this, he hovers for a second, hand brushing against the hollow of Yeosang's neck before he stands and stretches. Yeosang looks away, chewing his lip nervously and avoids the sight of Johnny's shorts resting far too low on his hips.

"We should get going. I have a radio appearance with Jaehyun in a few hours." Johnny glances at his watch, squinting hard, his glasses forgotten somewhere as per usual. "Unless you want to stay?" He questions, looking at Yeosang expectantly.

Yeosang considers it for a moment but shakes his head. Johnny's uncle gave them free reign of the gym and sure it's got exclusive membership. But Yeosang only ever liked to train with Johnny when the moon was high up enough to conceal his flaws. Thinking about training with other people makes his chest feel tighter in all the wrong ways.

Johnny senses his unease and steps forwards, until he's standing just a breath away. He smiles. "Shall I drive you home then?" He nods wordlessly.

Today, Yeosang goes home wearing his own clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone pls tell me if I should add NCT and Johnny in the tags lmao


	7. you're right in front of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> baby, you're old news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy. :)

_Breathe me in and choke me out._

It was inevitable, really. To push and to push and to _push_ until you reach a breaking point. To stand at the brink and fall into the abyss. 

So, yes. Yunho has reached the point of no return.

_Hold me close and hold me tight._

There's warmth beneath his fingertips, fiery and enticing. Bare skin brushing against the flesh of his palms and sending goosebumps along his forearms. The club around them is pulsing with music and Yunho is fever-dizzy, alcohol loosening up his limbs and leaving his brain fuzzy and soft. 

Yunho pulls the person into his arms and grips their face with both hands. It's a guy around his age. "What's your name?" He shouts over the music, barely managing to hear himself.

"Changmin." The boy responds, mouth lingering close to Yunho's ear. His breath smells like peaches and Yunho inhales deeply, great big gulps of air like he's been starved of oxygen. Changmin smiles impishly, glitter on his jaw catching the light in shades of blue and purple. 

Yunho is entranced. 

Maybe, it's adrenaline or hormones or maybe it's just desperation that drives Yunho to do what he does.

He kisses him.

Slow and soft and indulgent. It's like honey and rain all at once. 

Changmin grins through it all. Smile shining even as Yunho drags his lips down his collarbone. And Yunho feels relief because it comes so easily. The touches and the kisses flowing like a well-timed movie script that hasn't been written yet. 

"Let's go." Changmin breathes out in the spaces between silence before pulling Yunho outside into the sobering cold. But this has nothing to do with being sober and everything to do with running away.

And they do run, Changmin grabbing Yunho's hand and darting away through the empty city streets.

I deserve this. Yunho thinks before erupting into a belly-laugh that carries on into the sky. They run for two block before Changmin opens a door into an apartment building and they enter an elevator heading for ten floors up into euphoria.

In this light, it's easier to see the brown of Changmin's hair fading into pink ends.

"You're small." Yunho blurts out without much thought and as Changmin squints up at him, he realises that it's true. Changmin is slender in all the ways that Yunho is not.

"Or maybe, you're just big." Changmin quips, earrings jangling with every erratic turn of the head.

Yunho shakes his head sheepishly, tugging at his sleeves hard. "I didn't mean it like that." He pauses, trying to collect his thoughts, "like a pixie. You're small like a pixie." Hurriedly, before his confidence deflates completely. "And pretty too."

Scrunching up his delicate nose, Changmin chuckles, low-pitched and melting like dark chocolate. He opens his mouth just as the elevator doors open. Looking back and forth from Yunho to the doors, Changmin's full of mischief and adorned by an elfin smile. "Let me show you just _how_ pretty I can be." He says brightly, before gliding out of the elevator.

Yunho follows, heart in his throat.

And petals lining his stomach. 

 

**

  
It's 5am when Changmin nudges Yunho awake, pushing at Yunho's back before sleepily pointing at Yunho's vibrating phone. The moment Yunho picks up, Changmin drops his head back to his pillow, hair splayed out in a darkened halo.

"Hello." Yunho yawns out, rubbing at his eyes and trying to focus his vision before giving up and staring at the ceiling fan.

"You've driven me sick with worry." The whisper is harsh, jagged edges cutting sharp through the phone speaker and Yunho thinks his ears might be dripping blood. 

Yunho sits up straighter and leans his head against the leather headboard. His back hurts like a bitch. "I should've told you I was going to be home late. Hyung-".

He's cut off by a tired laugh tinged by hysteria. It frightens him.

"I wouldn't call staying out till the next day late. But that doesn't matter to me Yunho. If you're not dead in a ditch somewhere then you can at least make it back in time for practice." He hears a heavy sigh that crackles over the connection, the sound of running water leaking through over Hongjoong's voice. "We have a tour starting soon. Even if I'm the only one who seems to remember this fact. You could at least try." He sounds so fed up, Yunho doesn't know what to say.

"I will. I know you want-".

The phone clicks as Hongjoong hangs up. Then there's just dead air on an empty line before Yunho turns his phone off and the room is awash with darkness once more.

Yunho watches the silhouette of the ceiling fan spin on and on and on and-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is driving me insane wow. Hope the development with Yunho is interesting?


End file.
